“He was shot,” she explained. “And his ribs are bruised. His hands…”
Her voice went suddenly thick, and when I looked down at her, her eyes were swimming.
“I’m gonna be alright, baby,” I assured her. “It’s all minor.”
“It doesn’t look minor.”
“Look, I’m barely bleeding anymore,” I said as Saint came over, wedging the phone between his ear and shoulder so his hands were free to pull the shirt away to check out the wound himself.
“It’s a graze,” Saint said.
“Told you,” I said, getting a glower from Dylan.
It was my first good look at Saint.
The guy looked like a horror movie. His shirt was soaked with blood. His face was covered in it. His left eye was half swollen shut. There was a gash down the side of his neck. And the way he was holding himself made me think he’d fucked up his leg.
“How’s Syn?”
“Beat up. But he’ll be fine. Slash, a few of the guys, and some of the girls are on their way. We’ve got a lot of fucking work to do.”
“The girls?” I asked, brows pinching.
“Yeah, uh, Morgaine and Vienna. Because of their pasts,” he added. “You know… to help with the girls.”
A little whimper escaped Dylan at that.
“Are they okay?” she asked.
“There are only three here. The woman from outside—”
“Diana.”
“Diana,” Saint said. “A pixie-cut blonde, and one with pink hair.”
“What? There should be… a dozen. More.”
“Seems like this operation is split. Some are working over in L.A. Some are here.”
“This isn’t all of them?” I asked, stomach churning.
“They pimp out the girls in the city, and bring the money back here.”
The pained animal sound that escaped Dylan had my heart aching for her.
These were her people.
She had to be feeling some kind of responsibility for what happened to them, however misplaced that was.
“Here,” I said, shaking out Dylan’s shirt, then gathering it up and pushing it down over her head. Was it soaked in my blood? Sure. But it was better than her walking around in her bra when she talked to her girls for the first time again.
“Where are they?” she asked, looking at Saint.
“Syn has them in the kitchen. They don’t need to see what’s out there.”
“I need to talk to them.” She glanced at me, her tone apologetic. “Alone.”
“Yeah, that’s okay,” I agreed. “You’ve got a lot to talk about. Just gonna walk you out there.”
